


Relentlessly

by orphan_account



Category: Naruto
Genre: Coercion, M/M, Tension, slight implications of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:12:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1416331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>MadaOro / possibly ongoing but i'm not sure</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relentlessly

Madara is power.

This much is clear in the whirls of dust, spinning in gusts of energy, a godly transcendence; bearing the tomoe of the Rikudou Sennin. Orochimaru stands before a divine being. Yet his eyes are transfixed on the blood, the unspeakable blood that trailed down the Uchiha’s chin from scarlet-stained teeth.

Most of the United Forces had fallen, he reasoned. Madara’s previous attacker, aflame in the burning red powers of the Eight Gates, now lay forgotten amidst rubble or a pile of bodies. Few voices available for lamentation. As for the others, most of which, there was no sign.

Madara’s gloved hands clench into Orochimaru’s hair, pulling his head up.

“Look into my eyes,” Madara commands, and Orochimaru lets out a haggard laugh. If only Madara knew how much he would like to. Orochimaru wanted to look the embodiment of power in the eye.

Yet he valued his own freedom of will far more than such frivolous pursuits.

And presently the serpent is not retaliating for he has seen the ruin that befalls others who ran head on to challenge Madara like bulls with their horns bared. They dropped like stones.

“Release the Edo Tensei.”

Madara’s voice is curt, irate. He wrenches Orochimaru’s hair as if to make a point. Yet the Sannin only laughed again. Madara twitched.

Slowly he loosened his fingers a little, and knelt down to bring himself to Orochimaru’s level where he knelt subservient before the sage. He brought his mouth forward to the younger’s man ear, arm remaining dormant his hair; from a distance it may have almost seemed an embrace.

“Why do you defy me?” he murmurs, softly. “You are a creature of ambition. Support my ideals, and I can give you what you want.”

Orochimaru just shakes his head, a dry half-chuckle escaping his tired throat.  

"I do not wish for my dreams to remain nothing more than dreams, Uchiha Madara."

Madara’s eyes narrow, grip tightening once more.

"In autumn rains come a warmth greater than that of the summer," Madara muses softly, "And in a reality of nothing but dreams, there will no longer be a rule to define what is real and what is not." Madara’s tone is pejorative though he speaks with great fervour. He uses the clothed fingers as an anchor to angle Orochimaru’s head closer to him; barely any distance between drenched bodies now. Orochimaru can feel the pure energy radiating off Madara even through the rain and his soaked clothes. It is a warmth, a hum, a slow vibration in the air. It dizzies him.

"I should have thought that you would know better, Orochimaru. After all, autumn is the hunting season of the snake." 

Orochimaru is silent.


End file.
